


Beacon Through the Night

by WhoKnowsNow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Depressed Stiles, Depression, Derek to the Rescue, Diary/Journal, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Season/Series 03, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 08:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3127928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoKnowsNow/pseuds/WhoKnowsNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is trying to be strong, he really is. It's just not working out anymore. He writes journal entries to get his thoughts out, to try and relieve some of the pain caused by the Nogitsune and the death of his friends. Things take a turn for the worst, but there's someone who hasn't lost faith in him: Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beacon Through the Night

Stiles is strong. He knows it, his father knows it, his pack knows it. He’s been through so much in such a short time, he has to be strong in order to stay alive. Yeah, everyone knows that Stiles is a strong kid. The only problem is that Stiles’ belief in that is starting to falter.

He always thought that journals were stupid. Well, except for that one time freshman year when Lydia kept a journal, then it was a great idea. But since he’s started losing faith in himself, he realized that maybe writing about it isn’t so dumb after all. He never plans to tell anyone about it though, it might just kill him if anyone read it.

_Entry 1:_

_There is strength in all of them. There is strength in me. But today, it’s a little hard to grasp and I keep looking back and wondering what I’ve been doing all this time. I can’t believe I didn’t see it, I can’t believe they still don’t. I’m losing control. Who knows if I’ve had it all along._

_I’m so close to something new, so close to getting through it all, but it still seems so far out of reach. I try to look toward that distant day, but right now all I have to say is: strength, it’s hard to be strong. I feel so small. I feel so… lonely. There’s only one year left, one year until freedom, but the weight falling on my shoulders is all that’s pushing me along with my lingering strength._

_Strength is a value, something you hold on to. This feeling inside is getting hard to hide. I don’t have strength. I can’t right now. I know it sounds a little crazy, it sounds out of character, but I don’t have strength. I don’t have patience. I don’t have the endurance to hold on much longer._

_And so with restraint, everyday, I muddle through, but in my heart I say: it’s hard to keep going. It’s not easy being strong. It’s something I worked for, something I never thought I’d to lose. I know I shouldn’t let it go, shouldn’t let it show, but too much has happened for me to fake it much longer._

_I need to have strength, it’s important in this life. I need to get through it all._

_Without Strength, the world is so heavy. I feel like I’m being crushed daily. It’s getting unbearable. But, with or without strength, I’ll try to move on. Try to keep an open heart and an open mind. I need to be ready. The world is strong, I can be. I just need some help. This isn’t who I want to be._

_~ Stiles Stilinski_

The missions have gotten harder, the risks higher. He saw Erica’s body, he watch Boyd die. Not to mention what he did- what his body did last year, when he was possessed by the Nogitsune. He sees it all on repeat in his nightmares. He can hear the screams in his head when he closes his eyes. He was a monster. A monster that stabbed his best friend. A monster who made Allison die, who caused Aiden’s death. He opened himself up to it. He let it in. It’s his fault. They all say it’s not, but he knows. He knows that deep down there are parts of each of them that won’t forgive him for what happened. He doesn’t blame them one bit.

 

Stiles goes to school after another night of insomnia. It’s the start of his senior year and he is so ready to be done. He’s applied to colleges all over the US, mainly on the east coast. He applied to Berkeley and Stanford in California, but he probably won’t go there. He’s thinking that some school on the other side of the country would be perfect. NYU, maybe. Sure, he’ll miss his dad, Scott, Lydia, even Derek. They’ve gotten much closer since-- since all the events of last year. But, he needs to get away. Maybe leaving will help him forget. It’s not running away, not exactly. It’s a fresh start.

_Entry 2:_

_When your past lingers in your mind like a fictional story without reason or rhyme What page can you turn to, where do you go?_

_Do you flip ahead and read the ending, or do you turn back to re-see the whole show?_

_Do you get caught up in one plot line or do you see the big picture? Every story had a defined beginning and end, it's the middle that gets a bit twisted._

_Every decisions along the way is a new path, be it a dirt road or a paved walkway._

_Imagine all of the possible pathways life could turn into, all coiled up into a tiny sense of possibility in the mind. Infinity is terrifying._

_My middle has already gotten twisted, tangled really. The knot is too big to undo. Maybe I can move down the string, past the knot. Maybe I can leave it and start over. It’ll always be there, but it can stay in the past. I just need to move far enough away._

_I can leave it all behind. It’s not going to be the easiest thing, but it would be the best thing. What cannot be undone can’t be ignored or forgotten forever, it must be lived with, handled. I can’t escape the past and I can’t escape myself. I wish I had the strength to try._

_~Stiles Stilinski_

He comes home from school in silence. He doesn’t put the radio on, doesn’t drive people home. He sits and stews in his own mind. It’s not healthy, he knows that, but it doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t talk much anymore, so silence is like his new home.

The pack has noticed, but they don’t say anything about it, really. What can they say? Nothing will help now, it’s too late.

The panic attacks come more frequently now. He deals with them alone, he doesn’t want to bother anyone.

_Entry 3:_

_Why does it get so hard to breathe?_

_Why when I open my eyes is it still hard to see?_

_Why does it feel like the worlds weighing down on me?_

_And I'm told if I hold on another day it's gonna get better anyway._

_It makes me want to scream._

_And I know- I know there will come a day when my lungs would be full of air,_

_And then, the sound you hear will be mine._

_Whether it’s a scream or a cheer, at least someone will finally know I’m here._

_Will finally know what’s going on inside of me when it rips free._

_But today that doesn't seem so real._

_There are times when I feel it in my bones._

_There are times when I know it's just not my day. What if it never is? Never my day, month, year. Never in this lifetime._

_I try to move on in my own way,_

_But it doesn't feel better._

_I’ve got to do something to finally feel more,_

_To finally feel anything at all._

_~Stiles Stilinski_

He has pictured his death before, who wouldn’t with his lifestyle. He never expected to know what death feels like before it arrived. He never thought that he would welcome it so willingly.

He has always been a fighter. He fights for what he cares about. Clearly life isn’t one of those things anymore.

The strength he thought he had has been depleted in his efforts to conceal his true self. He isn’t strong anymore, at least not in the way he used to be. It has been replaced with the throbbing he feels throughout his body and in his soul. The strength he has now is what’s keeping him on earth. The strength is from his loved ones. He’s stealing it. He doesn’t even feel it, though. It may be there, it may not. He doesn’t really feel anything anymore. It’s all grey. The emotions, the outlook, everything that made up Stiles Stilinski, it’s been exchanged for the grey void that takes up the space beneath his flesh.

_Entry 4:_

_I want to feel. Sometimes I want to feel so badly that hitting my head against a wall or throwing myself down a hill doesn’t seem like a bad idea. The numbness that comes with feeling down and low, at least that’s something. Happiness is optimal. Happiness is what we all strive for. I want it. I want my life plan to play out, for things to go my way, but sometimes I just wish I just wish to feel anything more than this in the moment. I’m hollow. I’m alone. I am nothing. That is all I feel. It really is like those concurrent tunnels. Brief periods of everything. Sunlight on my face and the peace of living. But then the tunnels come back. They have to end, I know they do. The question is whether the ending is real happiness or the relief of death. I want to feel anything, anything at all because sometimes it feels like all there is is nothingness and feeling anything would be better than being this insufferable hollowed out version of a person._

_I want to scream. I want to punch everything. I want to yell at the world, at God maybe, I don’t know. What made me this.Why do I have to go through life feeling like a total and utter void, some seemingly dormant black hole so allusive that people don’t even look close enough to know it’s there. I feel like a fraud; like the people closest to me don’t know the me I know. I'm afraid that they wouldn’t want to. I’m afraid to be myself. I want to scream but all I can do is whimper._

_I want to run. Run from responsibility and problems. Forget all of the things that hold me to reality. Would being lost be so bad? I already feel like I am. I’m suffocated in other people’s problems, in their world. Where am I? I have all of these plans and ideas, this structure I’ve made. Without it I am lost in life, but it’s pointless because I’m already lost in myself._

_I want to cry. I want to let go because it really feels like I can’t hold on any more. If I do though, I won’t come back. I know that much. I want to be strong. I want to be happy for me, my friends, my family. I want to keep going. That’s all I do, keep going. I can’t let my mind rest because when I do it’s just me. I’m left to my own devices and I’m terrified._

_I want-_

_The problem is, no one asks what I want._

_~ Genim Stilinski_

Stiles decides that day that it’s time to end it. He can’t handle the pain anymore. The dullness had become a stabbing ache then turned back to something like numbness. Everyone would be better off. They wouldn’t have to tiptoe around him anymore. It’s time.

He looks in the mirror one last time and breaks it with his fist. Now his reflection is a more accurate representation.

The broken glass is jagged, painful, even as he touches it with the tip of his finger. It might be morbid, but he can’t will himself further; he pricks his finger and writes two words on the mirror: I’m sorry.

He grabs a shard that looks sharp enough, and moves to his room. Stiles opens his notebook, the journal that has been his only solace for so long, and turns to the last written-in page. It would do as a suicide note.

He moves over to the bed, the place where his mom used to tuck him in. The place where his dad came to check on him still, even more now than before. The place where he curled into Derek’s shoulder and cried after he was in control of himself again. He sits. It’s peaceful now that the decision has been made. He hasn’t felt this sort of serenity since his mom was alive. Maybe he’ll see her soon.

Stiles takes a deep breath, the last one probably, and drags the glass deep against his wrists. It shouldn’t be long now.

* * *

 

He wakes up to the smell of sanitizer, the sensation of being coated in obnoxious light, the sound of the drip drip dripping that could only be an IV. The hospital. He made it, or rather didn’t make it, not to where he wanted to go. Someone had saved him, at least they thought they had.

He wills his eyes open, even though he knows he’ll regret the decision. It’s a searing pain, and he wishes now for the peace he felt not long ago. When the world comes back into focus he sees his loved ones. They must love him, or maybe they hate him so much they just had to see whether he’d live or die.

He finds Scott and Kira holding each other, Lydia and with her her head on Danny’s shoulder, both are waiting in silence. He sees his dad and Melissa sitting together, comforting each other in small ways: a hand on the shoulder, a solemn look. Derek Hale is sitting in a chair off to the corner, holding his head in his hands. It sounds like he may be crying.

No one has noticed that he’s awake. Maybe he can just close his eyes and pretend to be with Aidan, Allison, Erica, Boyd, his mom. Pretending isn’t the same, though, and sooner or later he would have to do something- say something. Now is as bad a time as ever. He coughs.

He feels every pair of eyes on him in an instant, but no one says anything. Silence reigns again.

They take him home after time for suicide watch. He just has to go to meetings now. He knows his dad won’t let him be alone anymore, not for a while. He wonders what’s going to happen now that his dad has to work. There’s a knock at the door. He hears the Sheriff open it, he must be expecting someone. There are footsteps coming up the stairs, down the hall to his room. A knock on the door. He hears a croak that sounds like “come in.” That must be his voice. He hasn’t heard it in a while.

It’s Derek. Derek has been assigned his babysitter. That’s not what he says exactly, but that’s what it comes down to.

Derek starts talking and Stiles knows he should listen, it’s probably not important, but he might as well be considerate. “I know I shouldn’t be mad at you for what you did. You’ve been through a lot and we haven’t been the best at helping you deal with everything afterward. I’ve always thought you were strong. I still do. I know none of what’s happened to you has been easy and that a lot of it is my fault, but none of that makes me feel any better about what happened. I don’t want to be mad, but-”

“But you are. That’s okay, Derek. You’re allowed. I killed Allison, I killed Aiden, I ruined things for you. Then I was selfish. That’s what you all think, right? That I was selfish?”

“No- no, no, no, Stiles,” Derek’s hands are wrapping around his face now. He’s crying. Or maybe Stiles is. Maybe they both are. “None of that is your fault. You didn’t kill them. And we don’t think you’re selfish. We understand. We may not agree, but we understand. I’m the one being selfish. I’m mad at you because you were trying to get rid of yourself, because you were taking yourself away from me. I can’t lose more family, Stiles, I can’t survive that.” The tears are flowing more consistently now.

“You think I’m family?” Derek cares for him like family? Stiles knew he cared, but Derek is crying. That’s not something he’d expect to see, for him no less. Derek nods. “I don’t know what to say. You’re my family too, Sourwolf.” He can’t tell if the smile he gets in return is pained or genuine.

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m here to keep you company. We can do whatever you want to do.” Derek wipes his eyes dry, clearly trying to change the focus.

“Does that include cuddling? I could really use a good cuddle from you right now.” Stiles shrugs while he says it, expecting to be met with a hesitant Derek. Derek doesn’t respond with words. He peels off his jacket and shoes and climbs into Stiles’ new bed. The old one had too many memories for everyone. Stiles crawls right up next to him.

_Entry 5:_

_Throughout my life I can look back through the nights_

_And wonder if I ever really slept_

_My dreams are so real_

_And I wonder if I’d feel the same without them_

_Are you in my life or are you simply in my dreams_

_Are you really here, what am I supposed to see?_

_Am I seeing you?_

_Because every night I look around my room and I see the light shine from the window to the floor Is this real?_

_Am I in a dream?_

_Is this all true?_

_Do I really have you?_

_Can I reach out and take your hand?_

_Are you really there or this scheme so grand_

_That I can’t see through the darkness_

_And find the truth I lost so long ago_

_Now deep inside I can look and wonder why  without feeling so alone_

_But I can’t find my way_

_And I really need to now_

_So won’t you please show me how_

_How you’re living in the real world_

_Am I here?_

_Or is this gonna be another night_

_Asking “am I awake?”_

_It seems to be so true, but I feel so blind to think_

_That that could be the real you_

_Are you in my life or are you simply in my dreams?_

_Are you really here, what am I supposed to see?_

_Am I seeing you?_

_Are you the truth?_

_The light in my life?_

_My beacon through the night?_

_~ Derek Hale_

Stiles wakes up to an empty bed, but he can hear the shower running. He sees his journal, the one that he left to die, sitting on his nightstand, open. There’s a new entry. He smiles as he reads, and closes the book for good.

He’s not okay, but neither is Derek.

Maybe they can be not okay together.

Maybe they can make each other okay again.

At least they can try.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so I wrote this partially because I feel like there are a lot of events that could cause character development/change that in season 3, but also because the journal entries in here are actually mine or greatly influenced by my personal writing. It wasn't a very good time in my life, but it was a while ago and things are getting better, and I'm moving on as best I can. I wanted to finally turn what I'd written into something productive, change it to be a positive thing. I found the perfect outlet in this Sterek fic. 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Also, if you ever need to talk, don't hesitate to email me (supergirlx87@aim.com [old email, but reliable :)]). I've been through stuff and I'm here for ya if you ever need a friend! 
> 
> Thanks guys 
> 
> xoxo WhoKnowsNow  
> secondhand-and-broken.tumblr.com  
> (Sterek tumblr) fissionfever.tumblr.com


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